


The Definition of Human

by zigzagoon



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Justice League Dark (2017), Justice League Dark (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Childhood Trauma, Drug Addiction, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kirk's disability is not erased, Other, Self-Hatred, Self-Reflection, These are all canon (for the most part), he's actually deaf like he's supposed to be now, otherwise i do what i want
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23286676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zigzagoon/pseuds/zigzagoon
Summary: The definition of a human being was rigid, unchanged, established. The definition of a person was fluid, less uniform, complicated.Dr. Kirk Langstrom wasn't sure if he counted as either of these things, anymore.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	The Definition of Human

hu·man  
/ˈ(h)yo͞omən/  
noun  
a human being, especially a person as distinguished from an animal or (in science fiction) an alien.

That’s what the dictionary always told Kirk Langstrom. It had never been something to consider, save for discussions on those old sci-fi movies he used to binge in college. He had always been firmly literal in his arguments; a human is a species of animal. It is singular in its capabilities and achievements, and no other creature has lived up to its problem solving abilities. Not to mention the clear-cut DNA sequencing. A robot could never be human. Nothing could redefine the meaning of human. ‘Person’ had a looser definition, as he always assigned that word to anything with sapience. Even if not everyone always included him in their own definitions- even before the serum he had trouble with others. This definition was constantly redefined, eternally in a state of limbo.  
This was different, though. He stands now, shirtless, hands shaking, unable to stop staring at himself in the mirror. He didn’t know what he was, anymore. He certainly looked human. He had humanoid features. His hands and face and shoulders were unmistakably human. His face, although scratched and scabbed from the days before, was human.  
But he had no clue what ticked inside him. The serum had changed so much- he knew he wasn’t a bat. He didn’t match any specific species as Manbat, though he appeared to be similar to the common vampire bat. Manbat’s diet was unique- his preference for humans was completely unheard of in the animal kingdom.  
There was that word again. Human. It stuck in his throat like spider webs, tangled and sticky and never the tapestry they’re expected to be. His father was not an orbweaver, as much as he wanted Kirk to say he was. No, Kirk was a cobweb of a man, weaved by a venomous widow.  
Kirk could not remember a time before his father’s hands burned him with their venom. He couldn’t remember a time before he flinched at every movement, before the only man older than him he was comfortable around for an extended period of time was a magical chimpanzee. He knew everyone noticed. It couldn’t have helped his case when he had accidentally summoned the Otherkind. Bobo was already convinced he was losing his mind- though as far as Kirk was concerned he never really had a chance to have one.  
Would Manbat have ever existed if Kirk wasn’t so afraid? He leaned toward the mirror, struggling to keep his composure. Would all of those people be alive now if he wasn’t so scared of losing his hearing? Of being more vulnerable to the world? It didn’t work. He was deaf, now. At least his bat-head serum returned his hearing, at the cost of his appearance- as if he ever had that in the first place.  
He did not have the time to spiral into self hatred. It was late enough as it is. He cursed himself for tearing up, for feeling regret. For trying. He almost considered taking the serum and leaving, abandoning any sense of humanity he had left. It’d be so much better, and he wouldn’t have to cope with the godawful withdrawals anymore-  
That was another thing. He never told anyone about the withdrawals. About how much he craved the serum. How much he needed it. He assumed everyone thought he was Manbat so often because he was more useful that way, but that was only a convenient side effect. He was Manbat so often because he needed to be. He needed it like he needed air. Every moment without the serum in his veins was a moment devoid of any meaning whatsoever. There were some days- when he was synthesizing a new batch and had to go without- that he could barely come up with the will to get out of bed at all.  
He tried quitting. Of course he did. Batman was insistent on it, after taking advantage of Kirk’s addiction to take down his ex-wife. Arkham forced him to stop cold-turkey until the shock almost killed him. From then on they installed a perch to his cell for Manbat to roost on, at the cost of a few guards. He wasn’t sure he forgave anyone for what they did, but he also wasn’t sure he had the right to not forgive.  
God, he was hungry. 

“I don’t even know what I want,” He signed, quietly, to his reflection. “I probably am a shitty person for not saying anything. How am I supposed to be redeemed if- if I can’t even-” He struggled to find his words. He could feel tears hot on his cheeks. He turned away. His skin was burning. He could feel his father’s hands again. He felt dirty, but there was nothing he could do about it.  
“Shirt. Should start with a shirt. You can- can be a functioning person, Kirk. Human or not.” He scrambled to find a clean one. It’s not that he didn’t have any, or that he never did laundry- he just wore so many layers to missions (a combination of social anxiety and body issues) he always went through them much faster than he should have. He also always had a penchant for sweater vests, which never coped well with the demands of Manbat or the Justice League Dark. He eventually found one that would be suitable for sleeping in and pulled it over his head. It clung to him uncomfortably. He felt strangled in the fabric.  
Kirk had picked up a number of habits thanks to the serum. He was always the most awake during dusk and dawn, and though he did prefer night time, he still needed to keep a consistent schedule with the diurnal members of his team. To make up for this misalignment, he always had a lot of melatonin supplements, and, when nights were especially hard, low grade sleeping pills.  
Diana had those, actually. They belonged to Kirk, but Batman had evidently told her about his substance control issues, as she always insisted on knowing exactly how much he was taking. He understood. She couldn’t have a junkie on her team. Not when fighting something as terrifying as the Otherkind. A shame she already did.  
Kirk laughed at himself for thinking that. Bobo and Constantine were both alcoholics worse than he ever was with the serum. Sure, whiskey doesn’t always lead to mass murder, but he couldn’t single himself out as the only addict in the club. Even if he was the only one there on court mandated community service hours after pleading insanity after a bout of cannibalistic-  
Maybe he couldn’t compare himself to them. Still. He wasn’t the only one who needed an escape, and that was that. All he needed to focus on now was combing his hair for the first time in days, as he was too busy getting almost killed to get to it before, and- 

The mirror shattered. Kirk reeled back and curled up in the corner of his room, his hand bleeding. He could’ve sworn he saw his father looking back at him. The same scruff, the same messy hair, the same eyes, looking at Kirk the way _he_ always did. He had panicked and punched the mirror, letting the glass rip through his skin as punishment for being his son. He couldn’t hear the footsteps outside his quarters, but he planned for this occasion anyway. He knew he should tell them it’s okay, nobody’s being attacked, he just slipped- he just dropped the- he tripped over the-  
He flinched as the door opened, catching him off guard. Zatanna said something he couldn’t decipher before she signed to him.  
“Are you okay?”  
He held up his hands to reply, before letting them drop at his sides again.  
“I heard something break from outside. It woke Bobo up. He’s not happy with- are you bleeding?”  
“No. I mean- uh- I am, but- it’s nothing. I accidentally dropped the-” Lie number one.  
She said something else- Kirk guessed it was something similar to ‘ti dnem’ or ‘rorrim eht xif’ as his mirror repaired itself soon after.  
“You dropped a full length mirror?”  
“...Yes. I was moving it. Needed a change of scenery.” Lie number two.  
“At four in the morning.”  
“I’m nocturnal.” Lie number three.  
“Right.” Zatanna knew Kirk’s tells very well. Everyone did, because he always scrunched up his face before lying. Every single time, like it physically hurt. He sucked at it. Luckily for him he rarely did. “If something’s upsetting you, nobody will judge if you have to sit the next one out. You’re the only member who hasn’t had prior experience with magic. It can get to you, sometimes.”  
“I’m fine. Really. It’s not- magic related. I’m still as thrilled about that as ever, hah.” He knew Zatanna saw the scratches on his arms and the glass in his fist and the corruption deep in his skin. He knew she could tell he was lying.  
She did not mention any of these things. “Would you be okay with me healing you, then?”  
“No.” He said that too quickly. Time to backtrack. “I mean- you don’t have to. You should go back to bed.” He paused to gauge her reaction. “I’ll be fine. I meant to get some research done overnight. I’ve been going over the energy samples I collected when this all first started, and-”  
“Kirk.” Her face softened. “Are you okay?”  
He could lie. He could tell the truth. Both options had undesirable outcomes. He wished she never checked in on him in the first place.  
“I’m managing.” Not the truth, but not a lie, either. “I’m not used to the quiet.” Zatanna gave him a look. “Hah! I meant the- stillness, I guess. Nothing’s happening. It’s new to me.”  
“We’ve done a lot, in the past few months.”  
“And I grew up in Gotham, of- of all places.” Kirk laughed nervously. “Any moment without at least one explosion shaking the walls is quiet to me.”  
“Okay.” Zatanna paused for a moment. “If- if you need anything, you can say so. It’s alright to need help, Kirk.”  
“Right. I- I’ll do that. Thank you.” Kirk was borderline praying she would leave.  
“Goodnight, Kirk.” With that, she was gone. Kirk immediately slumped back against the wall, taking a moment to recover from the intrusion. He should just sleep. He knew he should. He can’t wallow in his self-pity forever. The world could start ending again at any moment, and he needed to be- as if he actually did anything in those scenarios. Zatanna was right about him being the only non-magical member of the team. He couldn’t do much other than be a liability.  
Still. He had research to do, if nothing else. His scientific journals and theories he had scribbled into those journals weren’t worth anything if he wasn’t coherent.  
He couldn’t risk spiralling again. He layed in bed, trying not to pay attention to his skin burning. He always slept facing the door. He was safe, here, but his father had conditioned him to having to watch for danger so constantly that he never dropped the habit. He watched the sliver of light underneath the door until he fell asleep.  
He did not dream that night.


End file.
